Meet Jessica Elliott, LMFT
 

I was diagnosed with PCOS in my early twenties. Like many women with PCOS, I have sat in exam rooms and been told to simply lose weight, as if that were the only answer. There is a particular kind of judgment that comes with those words. It can feel like being labeled lazy or responsible for your own suffering. Many doctors understand the body very well, but do not always understand the emotional toll PCOS has on the mind. The body and mind are deeply connected. I think back to childhood road trips when anxiety made me physically sick. That same connection shows up with PCOS. Our nervous system, our emotions, and our symptoms are intertwined.

 

The best doctor I ever had was actually the one who diagnosed me. She truly saw me. Unfortunately she stopped taking my insurance and I could not afford private pay at the time, and I did not fully understand that private pay was even an option. Since then I went from doctor to doctor. Most prescribed birth control even when it made my symptoms worse. One doctor placed me on progesterone and I ended up in the darkest mental health state I have ever experienced. Another placed me on Depo-Provera and I bled for three straight months. My period has been irregular most of my adult life and has been completely absent for more than a year at a time.

 

The dismissiveness has not been limited to doctors. I have also felt it socially. I have been told my reality is a myth. I have seen even women within the PCOS community question each other simply because their experiences are different. PCOS does not look the same for everyone. Just because one person does not experience something does not mean it is not real for someone else. I try to enter every conversation without assuming that my story is your story.

 

There have been moments when people offered hope that actually felt like dismissal. Statements like “I am sure you will have kids one day,” without pausing to understand the grief I was feeling in the present. And then there is the well meaning advice that always begins with the word “just.” Just relax. Just lose weight. Just do not worry. Just move on. Most of the time people are not trying to hurt us. They often simply do not know what to say. But those messages can silence real pain.

 

I also live with AuDHD, a mixed experience of Autism and ADHD. This adds another layer to how I experience the world, healthcare, relationships, and stress. When I become overwhelmed, overstimulated, or feel unsafe, my nervous system moves into the freeze response. People often misunderstand freeze. They see stonewalling and assume it is rejection or intentional shutting down. In reality, it is the nervous system saying “I need to protect myself.” It is the survival brain trying to keep us safe. Neurodivergent nervous systems can be more easily activated into these survival responses. Not everyone reacts the same way. It is not dramatic. It is not attention seeking. It is being human with a sensitive nervous system.

 

I have had moments in my life where overwhelm pushed me past my threshold. One happened when I was younger, hormonal, and completely unaware of what my brain and body needed. Something as small as a paper cup hitting the floor felt like too much. Another moment happened years later, during a date with my boyfriend when my blood sugar crashed. My brain could no longer process decisions. I cried, I panicked, and I could not think clearly. Once I finally stabilized my body, my mind followed. Only then could I apologize, understand what happened, and reconnect. These experiences did not come from weakness. They came from a nervous system overwhelmed by emotion, biology, neurodivergence, and stress.

 

Experiences like these have deeply shaped the way I work. Especially with couples. When freeze, fight, flight, or fawn show up in relationships, they are rarely about a partner “not caring.” They are often the nervous system trying to cope. I help individuals and couples recognize these responses, honor them, regulate the body, and then return to the conversation instead of getting stuck in emotional shutdown or conflict. Life is not only emotional. It is not only physical. It is not only cognitive. It is the interaction of all of them together.

 

I do not pretend to know everything. I do not have a cure, and neither do doctors. What I do know is what it feels like to live with PCOS and feel completely alone. I know what it feels like to feel ashamed of your body and betrayed by it. I know what it feels like to feel distance in your relationship because your partner does not fully understand your experience. And I know what it feels like to have grief and fear spill out sideways because it has nowhere else to go.

 

You are not alone.

 

Some advice people offer does have truth in it, but the delivery matters. Regulating the nervous system truly helps, but it needs to come with compassion. There is no magic pill. There is no simple fix. But when we slow down, learn to listen to our bodies, find the right doctors, and reduce the constant stress response in our system, we often begin to see change.

 

You are valid exactly as you are today. You were valid 40 pounds ago. You will not suddenly become more worthy 40 pounds lighter. Your value has always been here.

 

If you are navigating the emotional experience of PCOS or the layered experience of PCOS and neurodivergence, I offer therapy for individuals and couples who are trying to understand, cope, heal, and reconnect. PCOS support groups are coming soon, because no one deserves to walk this journey alone.